Tag Archives: Dog Foster Care

Returning a Crate

Posted by dkrashb on

We needed to return the dog crate we borrowed from the McKamey Animal Center.  That’s all we we were going to do.  Drop off the crate.  But Anna, the volunteer coordinator, was there and she asked if we wanted to meet a dog she wanted us to foster “so we could think about it.”

We met Tisen (which I think should be spelled Tyson, but then he’d be named after a chicken company, so it’s just as well).  He is an 8 year old mix who looks like a collection of terrier breeds and maybe even some dalmatian.  He trotted out to us in the exercise yard, just a little shy at first.  Soon, he was giving us kisses.

Anna told us Tisen’s owner is dying.  And, out of “love” for his dog, he decided he wanted Tisen to die with him.  So, he stopped feeding Tisen, apparently thinking the dog would starve to death about the same time he died and they would go to heaven together.  I’m not sure what the rules are about getting into heaven, but if starving a dog to death is on the list of ways to get in, I think I’ll pass.

The man had a daughter who was caring for him and his dogs who apparently agreed to this ploy and was feeding the other two dogs, whom the man loved less.

I don’t know much more about this story except that the police were called and they called McKamey and the wonderful staff at McKamey decided this dog needed to be saved.  He’d been in their clinic under constant care for many weeks, regaining his strength.  He’d become a favorite among the staff and his many fans were giving him extra love and attention.  However, when he had recovered enough to be adopted and was put out in the kennel areas for public viewing, he started showing signs of stress.  He apparently has a hard time being surrounded by other dogs.

We looked at his flaking skin and thinning fur, chunks missing in places and his skin bright red underneath where he’s started chewing on himself from stress, and, I ask, how could we have left this sweet boy there?

I have to say it felt pretty good when one of the staff came out to say goodbye to him and personally thanked us for fostering him–she felt strongly that he not only needed it but he really deserved it after all he’d been through.

When we rode home, he stood between the seats with his front paws in my lap, licking my face.  When we got home, after sniffing around, he plopped across my lap and nestled in like he was home.  I managed to coax him over to Pat’s lap so I could run to the dog store to get something for his skin.  When I came home, my boys were curled up on the couch snoozing.  For once, I feel certain we did the right thing.

One Man’s Trash

Posted by dkrashb on

We are up before the crack of dawn, on our way to the hang gliding training hills.  We arrive early–the gates are still locked.  As soon as we settle in to wait, two dogs come running down to greet us.  They are collarless, thin, very young, and very adorable.  There aren’t any homes near enough to explain why these dogs would be hanging out here before dawn.

When the instructor arrives, we drive on, deciding to worry about the dogs on the way home, but the dogs chase us down the dirt road for as long as they can keep up.  We lose them when they tire, but they arrive at the parking lot about the time we get out my glider.  They jump all over me, wanting to be petted some more.  I turn my back on them when they jump and pet them when they have all four paws on the ground.  It takes three times and they figure out they can get what they want by standing still.  They are smart dogs.

As I go through my flying lessons, the dogs chase me when I fly off the hill and run up and start licking my face if I land on my belly.  I’m not sure if they’re worried about me or just having fun, but it’s cute.

After a few flights, they run off to explore something else.  I am relieved–these dogs are breaking my heart.  But, I don’t want to jump into a 12-14 year commitment because they’re cute and hungry.

When we call it quits for the day, the dogs reappear to “help” disassemble my glider.  They remember not to jump on me and I am impressed with how quickly they have learned that lesson.  When I am done, I sit on the ground and let them share my lap.  They are so sweet.  I remind myself they’ve been running around and are exhausted.  Tired dogs usually are sweet.

But my husband looks at me sitting on the ground with these hungry, adorable dogs and says, “All right, get them in the van.”  They ride comfortably with us to Wendy’s where they wolf down burgers.

We discuss the choices we’ve made since the death of our sweet Mastiffs to make it easy for us to travel.  We decide to take the dogs to a shelter and volunteer to foster them.

The shelter is large and clean and the man at the desk is reassuring.  I meet the volunteer coordinator and she is equally friendly.  I fill out paperwork and we bring in the dogs.  It will take 5-7 days for the dogs to get vet care (including spaying and neutering), have their behavior assessed, and be ready for foster care. I am sad as we walk out.  I cannot shake a feeling of unease, like I have shirked a responsibility.  I imagine their disappointment at being left behind.  I feel my own disappointment.  I resist the urge to run back inside and ask for them back.